


The Table

by seriousfic



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Canon Bisexual Character, Canon Lesbian Relationship, F/F, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 09:45:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3442538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seriousfic/pseuds/seriousfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark's ready now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Table

Mount Weather had fallen.

 

Clarke hadn’t been able to wait to see Lexa after the battle. She knew, she knew, she had to be a good leader, count the survivors, comfort her friends, but there came a point where no one could judge her for leaving it to her mother. She left Mount Weather to the dead and went to the camp site erected brazenly on its slope, the Grounders in open defiance of their old enemy. Clarke had actually come to recognize Lexa’s tent, just from where it was. At the edge of the camp site, daring someone to come for her.

 

Inside, Lexa had been sewn up, bathed, her war paint scrubbed off her fresh young face. Clarke actually envied whoever got to do all that. Seemed like she never got to help people anymore, just decide who got hurt.

 

Lexa took one look at her and said “I want the people of Mount Weather. Give them to me.”

 

Clarke could’ve rolled her eyes. “Lexa, _no._ ”

 

“Generations of my people’s blood runs in their veins. I want it back.”

 

“They’re not all bad. Some of them helped my friends.”

 

“I can give those a quick death.”

 

Clarke knew she thought she was being reasonable. “You can have Cage, the people who give the orders, but the people who were just following them—“

 

“What? What will you do with them, now that they’re your responsibility? They’ll become a never-ending problem. Clarke, _let me._ ”

 

Clarke sighed. Then fumed. It made her angry, how Lexa pretended she was so direct, no bullshit, do what needs to be done, when really, she was as much about half-truths as any politician, anyone back on the Ark.

 

Sure, Mount Weather was an issue, one that needed to be resolved, but that wasn’t why Lexa was bringing it up. She was covering. She’d exposed herself before the battle, half not expecting to come back, and now she was desperately trying to pull her armor back on.

 

“I don’t want to talk about this now,” Clarke said.

 

“You told me you wanted them all dead. You begged me to let you kill them.”

 

“I was angry then. I calmed down. _And I don’t wanna talk about this right now.”_

“It is not your job to calm down. It is _our job_ to seek the redress you promised me, _justice_ for my people who are just now tasting the light after being imprisoned in that hellhole, stepping over countless fallen brothers and sisters…”

 

Clarke stepped up to Lexa. So fast Lexa didn’t even have time to think about backing up, she just did it. “I said I don’t want to talk about this.”

 

She kept coming. Lexa kept backing up. The table was right where it always was, right where they’d left it. The back of Lexa’s thighs hit its edge and still Clarke came, leaning in so Lexa found herself sitting down on the table, just trying to get some space between them. Some distance so Clarke couldn’t hear how loud her heart was beating.

 

It wasn’t until Clarke had smiled that Lexa realized she’d known all along. Clarke kept leaning in, lips close but not touching. She dared Lexa to kiss her again. Her hands hit Lexa’s thighs. Opened them up. Played a little game with the stitching on Lexa’s trousers. Won. Scanted them down her crotch as she lowered herself down. Lexa saw that smile become infinitely smug as it disappeared between her thighs.

 

The first lick, Lexa knew Clarke was good. She didn’t use it to make Lexa wet for penetration, wasn’t even trying to make Lexa come. She did it to _taste_ her. She kept going from there, eating Lexa long and slow, licks that became nibbles that became sucks, never going inside, just playing at the labia, exploring it until Lexa felt a little like a tree being wracked by a cat’s sharpening claws.

 

And Clarke kissed her. Kissed her cunt in never-ending delvings, so long and soft that Lexa could feel Clarke breath through her nose as she kept _going._ As she drew out a heat from deep inside Lexa that only Clarke could find.

 

And, God only knew how, but Clarke had learned some expressions in Lexa’s language. Secret things. Profane things. She whispered them between Lexa’s legs and somehow they made their way up to Lexa’s ears, where she learned how much Clarke loved the taste of her, loved the warmth of her, all the things Clarke was going to do to her and keep doing to her, maybe never stop doing to her.

 

Lexa came fast, but long after she’d _needed_ to come.

 

When their eyes met, Lexa knew what hers were doing. Her look begged Clarke, even as her voice shook but stayed strong. “My turn,” Lexa said, reaching for her, but Clarke was faster. Spun Lexa around, bent her over the table, pulled her trousers down to around her boots, making Lexa so damn vulnerable, something to trip over, no way to run, no armor on her lower body whatsoever.

 

“Still my turn,” Clarke said, and kissed one side of Lexa’s pale ass. Kissed the other. Gave it a slap that seemed to prime Lexa for when Clarke leaned in and kissed her again, between, where she still throbbed from the last time.

 

Lexa wasn’t as sensitive as she’d been right after her orgasm, but she was still just sensitive enough for Clarke’s tongue to almost sting inside her. Her ass throbbed where Clarke had struck it, her breasts burned, her lips tingled—needing to meet Clarke’s. Her whole body was aching, trembling, she’d just _had it_ and now she needed it all over again. It was too late; she’d never stop needing Clarke.

 

She came again, fast and hard, a shameful surrender to Clarke’s prowess, and Clarke grabbed her by the hair, brought her around again, kissed her and her lips were so wet, warm, the taste so like Costia’s—someone she cared enough to kiss after her needs were met. Because it was her own. She’d let Clarke in.

 

Clarke pulled away. Licked her lips. Glanced down at Lexa, still naked from the waist down, and her eyes were hungry. “Your turn comes tomorrow. You’ll come to Camp Jaha. You’ll tell them why you’re there and they’ll let you in to see me. And bring something nice. Flowers—a meal—something to drink. You’ll think of something. I want a proper date, and— _if_ we get around to it—we can discuss trying Mount Weather’s citizens for war crimes.”

 

Lexa could only nod.

 

“By the way, Commander. Remember when I told you I wasn’t ready to be with anyone?” Clarke bent down to kiss her again. This time sweetly. On the cheek. “I am now.”


End file.
